


Closer

by PaxieAmor



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Blood, post injury makeouts, slight porn fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxieAmor/pseuds/PaxieAmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had never been so close before...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://berendoes.tumblr.com/post/22919652019/i-want-a-fic-where-clint-gets-hurt-in-battle-and) on tumblr. Beware, there is some nakedness beyond that link.

Clint Barton opened his eyes slowly, looking around cautiously. He was aware of exactly three things.

One: he was no longer in New York City. On the contrary, he was somewhere completely opposite, full of trees, grass, rocks… was that a deer? That was a fucking deer. Yeah, definitely _not_ in New York anymore.

Two: He was injured. Nothing major as far as he could tell; a few cuts, some deeper than others, and some bruises. Some of the superficial cuts had already scabbed over, but there were a few that he could feel still leaking blood. And he was sore. _God_ was he sore.

And three: Someone was holding him. Not just holding he, full on _spooning_ him; there was an arm around his waist, a hand resting on his stomach. Another hand was against his left bicep, and someone’s head was snuggled into his back, between his shoulder blades. Clint moved slightly, just enough to look over his shoulder and see who was cuddling him. His jaw dropped slightly; it was Bruce.

Memories of that morning flooded back to him in an instant; the battle with AIM, their new shiny flying orbs of death, Tony making jokes about Doctor Who… his grappling arrow not opening properly after he had to leap from a roof, the glass from the sunroof five floors below ripping through his flesh as he crashed through, the gut wrenching _thud_ when he landed…

He remembered being picked up, catching a glimpse of green before his vision went dark and he drifted into oblivion. He remembered being very aware that he was _safe_ , a feeling that he was still experiencing. It was a good feeling; he wanted it to continue.

“Oh my god!” Bruce had apparently woken up while Clint was figuring out what had happened. He jerked away quickly, which was really a _shame_ as far as Clint was concerned, getting to his feet and standing over the archer, which… wow. That was a nice view, wasn’t it?

Clint had never had an occasion to _really_ look at Bruce Banner. The scientist never joined the rest of the team in sparring sessions, for obvious reasons, so Clint had never seen him in anything other than the baggy attire he normally wore. Right now, however, Clint was really seeing him. He had a few bumps and scrapes, but nothing serious. He was in no way a ‘buff’ individual, but there was definitely some muscular tone on that small, unassuming frame.

And then there was fact that Bruce Banner was most definitely packing some heat; Clint’s mouth may have gone dry.

“I am so sorry,” Bruce said, scrambling to collect what was left of his pants and cover himself with them. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Bruce,” Clint said with a grin, slowly pushing himself upright. “It’s alright…”

“I wouldn’t want to do anything to make you feel uncomfortable, I don’t even remember what happened…”

“Which is why it’s alright…”

“Do you know where we are, I don’t know where we are, dear god, I kidnapped you and now we’re lost…” Clint, who honestly couldn’t hold back anymore, burst out laughing.

“Oh god,” Clint said, wincing and gasping for air. “Fucking hell man, you have to stop because, Jesus, it literally _hurts_ to laugh right now.” Bruce seemed to notice Clint’s injuries for the first time, his eyes widening.

“Oh my…” He wasted no time in seating himself next to the archer, carefully assessing his injuries. “Good news, you don’t seem to have any debris stuck in your wounds…” He looked at the remains of the pants he had been wearing, frowning a little. “These aren’t the cleanest, but it’ll have to do until we can get back to civilization; that okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Clint replied. As he watched Bruce work, Clint was only vaguely aware of anything else said to him after that, focusing more on how _close_ the scientist was to him. He started with bandaging a gash on his calf before moving up to one on his thigh; if Bruce happened to move his hand in just the right place, he was going to learn something that Clint Barton had been trying to keep under wraps for a long time…

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Bruce’s words were soft, honest. His lips looked warm, inviting and they were right _there_ , where Clint couldn’t ignore them any longer. The archer leaned forward just enough to capture Bruce’s lips in his own.

The kiss was sweet, tender, but hesitant; Clint began to pull away, only feel Bruce’s fingers slide into his hair, keeping him close. The kiss continued; it was now deep, rough, but passionate. _Hungry_. A soft whimper escaped Clint’s lips as Bruce’s free hand rested upon the crotch of his pants, applying just enough pressure to his already hard cock to drive him wild.

“Am I hurting you?” Bruce whispered against his lips, sending chills down Clint’s spine.

“No,” he replied, his own hand finding its way to Bruce’s cock, his fingers grasping gently as he continued to kiss the other man. He felt the vibrations of Bruce moaning into his moth as he moved his hand slowly, feeling the member throbbing in his grasp. He moved his hand faster; the kiss became more intense, with Bruce forcing his tongue into Clint’s mouth as his moans got louder.

“Clint,” he murmured; he was between the archer’s legs now, having carefully placed himself there moments before. “Fuck, Clint…” Amidst the hunger and yearning, Clint could sense the hesitation in Bruce; he didn’t want to hurt Clint any more than he already was.

“I’m alright,” he promised. He tightened his grasp, moving his hand faster. Bruce was still moaning, but it sounded different now… it sounded more like a growl… oh dear.

“Clint!” Clint looked into Bruce’s eyes just in time to see them flash green. He released his hold on Bruce’s cock, taking his face in his hands and kissing him tenderly.

“It’s alright,” he whispered between kisses. “You’re alright… _we’re_ alright…” His chest was pressed against Bruce’s and he could feel his heart rate slowing. Within moments, he was calm again.

“Sorry,” Bruce muttered, unable to look Clint in the eyes.

“Don’t be,” Clint replied. “You’re a hell of a kisser.”

The team found them an hour or so later; Bruce was wrapped in what was left in his pants and Clint was fast asleep, resting his head on his shoulder.

Nobody said a word.


End file.
